The gravitational pull churned, crashing against the walls. The steel trembled, and many red marks appeared on the surface that resembled burning. Gravity was torn apart, and flesh rested peacefully beneath the armor—and then, impacted.

Violent impacts.

The ground trembled, steam gushed out of the heat dissipation holes that had been reserved early in the morning on the outside of the boarding torpedo, and the heat escaped, and along with the burning air, Carlil slowly walked out of it.

It was the first time he'd done a gang jump with the Nightblades, and to be honest, it wasn't anything to remember. After these days, Carlil can almost see his future life.

The two things of correcting official documents and killing are essentially the same, and they are nothing more than repetitive labor and destruction of people. He stepped peacefully into the hallway, the hem of his cloak dragging across the burning ground.

It greedily licked the human blood clean, but the orcs didn't move. Carlil glanced at it, and after a brief warning, he didn't care.

The nature of the armor had been influenced by him, and some changes that were not well suited to human perception were slowly revealed in it. He walked through a narrow corridor full of bullet holes to the place where the 1st Company's boarding torpedo hit.

A burning deck.

And here the bloody battle has begun.

Van Cleef was not there, and the man at the head was his adjutant Moletz. Siani is there, but it's hard to see where he is. The hand-to-hand combat champion wields his power claws and slaughters in a green pile of orcs.

Carlil stood silently by the door, staring at it all, not intending to meddle in it.

He scanned the battlefield, silently evaluating the performance of the Nightblades in this battlefield. Some rushed too forward, others fought like animals savagely.

The man would swing his sword and cut open the wound, then tear it apart with his fingers. This method of fighting is obviously impractical, and it may be effective against human enemies, but the enemies they are facing are orcs.

Moreover, not yet a simple group of orcs.

Carlil's eyes narrowed, the empty sockets of the skeleton face unchanged, but the details were already visible.

He found that although this group of orcs was poorly equipped and their armor looked like a simple welded steel plate, they had a strange combat quality that didn't come from nowhere.

The Nightblades' tactic was to enclose them in the middle, strangling them bit by bit, and the group of orcs actually began to cover each other back to back in the third minute of the start of the tactic.

The battle circle is rudimentary, and the style of play is even closer to a natural savagery, but it is very effective.

And they're not noisy, seriously, they're not noisy at all. There was no yelling, no uneasy hissing of their companions as they fell—and this was nothing to do with the 'stupidity and savagery' mentioned in the materials on the Nightfall.

The most important point is that.

Carlil tilted his head slightly, dodging a barrage of bullets that came at him. An orc glared at him in the middle of the battle, its ugly, fanged mouth wide open, grinning at him.

All right. Also sharp.

The skeleton lowered its head and seemed to sigh. The cloaked man behind him stood up, and the shadow shot out excitedly, grabbing the orc's right and left legs. Before it could even change its expression, it was torn in half by the cloak in the next second and thrown into the air.

The rain of blood fell from the sky, and a howl of anger or shock immediately rang out. Raining down gunfire immediately poured into the place where Carlil had been, but he was no longer there.

Adjutant Morets began to roar, and the Nightblades did not miss this opportunity. The blasters turned into a rain of fire, punishing them for a moment of distraction. The battle circle was torn apart, and the cruels in midnight-colored armor immediately rushed in.

Two minutes later, the battle ended.

"There are more than two hundred on one deck." Carlil leaned against the wall and whispered. "That's a staggering amount."

"Instructor." Moletz approached him, his armor covered in stinking blood. "These orcs aren't the same as we've encountered in the past."

"Really?"

"Yes. They would never have had such calmness and sharpness in the past, and these aliens have always been reckless lunatics, no matter the occasion. They are always in a mess, and many of them will be trampled to death by themselves before they even reach the enemy, and there is only one tactic, which is to charge, a cluster charge. ”

"I don't know much about orcs, and the few words I have come from books. For now, books are probably of little use – so, what advice do you have, Moletz? ”

"I think we'd better meet up with the company commander first." The adjutant of the 1st company replied calmly. "Half of this Conquest-class cruiser has already been mastered by the orcs, and the company commanders must be in a bitter battle."

"It seems that it is still too risky to scatter the attack." Carlil shook his head. "Just do as you say, besides, Sergeant Ogles, stop pulling the orcs by the throat with your left hand, you might as well just decapitate them."

Nightblade, who was called by name, nodded silently, and only replied after a half-ring: "It's hard to break the habits left over from the past. ”

"Use it as it is."

With these words, Carlil sank into the darkness again in front of them. After more than ten seconds, Siani's voice rang out in the communication channel: "Do you think the instructor has been getting more and more casual lately? ”

"What do you mean?" The adjutant asked solemnly. "Shut your mouth, Siani."

"Isn't the adjutant amazing?"

"If you want to turn a three-month ban into a four-month ban, then I don't mind if you go on."

Silence returns to the channel.

——

Van Cleef calmly pressed the head of an orc with both hands, and he did it carefully, but also seemed to be very handy.

The thing yelled at him, saliva gushing out and sticky running down a company-long eyepiece, but Van Cleef was not angry.

With a quick movement, he plunged his thumb into the orc's eye socket, gouging out the eye in two or three strokes, and then, clenching his fists, began to pound the alien eye socket.

The fist quickly shattered the bone, and Van Cleef effortlessly reached in after this and pulled out the orc's head.

The soft touch is blocked by metal, but the heat and weight are not. They were slipping down the gaps between his fingers. Van Cleef finally showed a little disgust, and he shook his hand and threw the brain tissue down. It slammed to the floor with a soft thud.

The battle was over, but he didn't have a break. He bent down, picked up the blaster he had dropped earlier, turned around, and began firing at the other end of the hallway.

He hit it accurately, and the few pieces that tried to sneak up on him were immediately shattered in the head or hit in the torso.

Foul-smelling blood splattered and spilled all over the ground. It seeps through the cracks along the rough metal surface. Van Cleef didn't know where they were going, but he didn't care.

Since 'waking up', his mind has become more and more prone to this high-speed operation, and everything has slowed down, just waiting for him to reach out and touch, to touch. Is this a good thing? The commander of the first company didn't know, but it was still the same sentence.

He didn't care much.

A few connecting runes flashed on his retina - the Conquest-class cruiser was in charge of the First Rank, and they didn't choose to fight all in one place.

One was in the stern, the other in the bow, and Van Cleef led the other part of the elite to extend from it to both sides. They scattered and did their old ways.

Solitary hunting in the dark was an almost instinctive skill for every Midnight Blade, a tactic they had been accustomed to before they had even changed their name, and now they were only going to get more sophisticated. It's just that Van Cleef himself didn't expect that he would be so handy.

He couldn't help but start thinking. In the past, when the modification surgery was completed, the fear in his genes was removed. This physiological reaction could no longer affect him, and now, he didn't even have even the most basic excitement in battle.

The adrenaline was still burning, but it had become something akin to an active injection, and he could control it with ease.

In other words, he can control himself and let his power burst out in certain moments of need.

The company commander sighed slightly, and couldn't help but start thinking about whether he was still pure blood, and easily hung the blaster back on the armed belt around his waist. His hearing was good, and the sound of corpses landing on the other side of the hallway was clear to him.

In the past, he would have gone over to see if they were all really dead, but not now. Hunting tactics are all about efficiency, and killing is sometimes more useful than seriously injuring.

He ran forward, entering the darkness again, chainsaw sword in hand. The little finger is the first to close, then the index finger is the last.

It's called 'Night', and the High Gothic language glistens on the gauntlet, not yet stained with blood. Following the connecting runes displayed on the eyepieces, Van Cleef was soon able to locate his brother and their instructor, Karil Lohals, in the unlit hallway.

"Ah, here you are, Van Cleef." The skeleton bowed his head slightly. "I'm still wondering how long you'll kill."

"Are you watching my fight?"

"I've basically watched everybody's fights." Skeleton said. "You know, it's easy to walk in the dark."

Don't you think it's a little too convenient?" Van Cleef withdrew his chainsaw sword, his voice becoming a little strange. "Anyway, you've done some superficial work in the past."

"Not anymore." The skeleton laughed happily, its voice distorted, bordering on a sneer. "With this spare time, I might as well correct a few more official documents, have Morets corresponded with you?"

"He said so." Van Cleef nodded. "Confluence, I understand."

"So—" The skeleton turned its head and looked at the dark end of the hallway. "—I'll go find the captain of this ship first."

There is one more more.

In a word, don't buy the starry sky.

(End of chapter)